Blind
by Phillippa of the Phoenix
Summary: Love is not always as sweet as we wish it was.
1. You Don't Notice

The muse strikes again!

Summary: A few rather careless comments from Ron spark thoughts in Hermione's mind. A song-fic of sorts, "of sorts" because I wrote the song. (r/h, oc/oc)

Chapter One: You Don't Notice

"Wow. . ."

"I can't believe it!"

"Did you see that? Did you _see_ that? Bloody –"

Astronomy class, needless to say, had never been this exciting. Except when Hagrid . . . and then Professor McGonagall . . . but that wasn't like now. This was _good_ exciting.

Hermione Granger, Head Girl and a head shorter than her two best friends, had a tingly feeling all over. A meteor shower, which she had never seen before, was so . . . cool. Her brilliant vocabulary failed her.

Of course, she told herself, that tingling just _might_ have something to do with how close Ronald Weasley was standing behind her. His body was actually in contact her body. Who cared about robes, he was _touching_ her. Another small shiver crawled up her spine. Hermione adjusted her telescope again and gave a hopefully inaudible sigh (What on Earth would I say if he heard and asked me what was the matter? 'Oh, nothing, really, your arm just touched mine.'?). Why didn't he notice . . .

Professor Duffy, the new, nervous and Irish (although she didn't look it, there was something in her voice – and her name – that gave her away) astronomy teacher who was rather fond of clearing her throat, cleared her throat. "A-_hem_! Those looking now should – a-_hem_! – give the ones behind them a chance. A-_hem_!"

Hermione reluctantly left the telescope and let Ron take a look. He gave her a grin before moving the telescope to his own height. Suddenly it seemed balmier than it should have been for October. Closing her eyes a moment, she had a brief vision of a palm tree and a certain boy in swimming trunks . . .

As echoes of "No way!" and "Did you see that? Bloody –" faded, Ron smacked the telescope in frustration. "No! I didn't see that! My telescope –" Professor Duffy hurried over, clearing her throat.

"A-_hem_! Mr. Weasley, perhaps you haven't – a-_hem_! – adjusted it correctly."

"Hermione was the one who adjusted it. Of course it's adjusted correctly. But I _can't_ **_see_**."

All the warm feelings Hermione had been having fled. As Professor Duffy tried out the telescope for herself, a new train of thought appeared in her brain. _ I'd have to agree with you, Ronald. You can't see anything at all. _Hermione hugged herself and looked up at the sky, over at Harry, anywhere but at Ron.

_You say you can't see  
I'd have to agree  
When you look at me  
It's no surprise  
You don't notice  
The love in my eyes_

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Professor Sheila Duffy took another peek through the telescope. Was there something wrong with Ronald Weasley's eyes? There was the meteor shower, plain as the nose on her face. _Plainer and clearer than me, it would seem,_ she thought mournfully. She cleared her throat, unreasonably scared that someone had heard her thoughts. Her nervous persona and quiet voice sometimes caused people to bypass her easily, a fact she had always resented. _I'm right here in the open, _she wrote in her diary a couple years ago. _So, why does everyone act like I'm invisible?_

Her first day at Hogwarts, after the assembly at the Great Hall where she had been introduced to everyone, she had been asked four times who she was. Sheila bet that no one had asked Professor Kent who _he_ was. Alden Kent was a very happy, bright, out-there-for-everyone-to-admire person when compared Shelia. Everyone was a bright, happy person when compared to Sheila. But Alden was just happy and cheery all the time. He made Sheila laugh. He made Sheila cry, but never on purpose . . . surely, never on _purpose _. . .

Sheila blew back a lock of brown hair that hung on her eyebrow. Her best friend Kathey always told her she was unconventionally beautiful. Irish beauties were supposed to have long, curly red hair and sparkling green eyes, an angular face and be farmer's daughters. A round face (cherub-like, Kathey always cooed) with blue-green eyes (not hazel, Kathey always insisted, bi-colored) and brown hair that could never be coaxed into curling was all Sheila had to offer, and instead of being an innocent (stupid, Kathey muttered) farmer's daughter, she was a city girl with brains. If she had been born in London, all of that would've been okay. If her name was, say, Kathey Mathers, no one would think on her looks being odd. But, no, she was Sheila Duffy, and she was never what her teachers, employers or students thought she would be.

"Professor Duffy?" asked Hermione Granger, the cleverest witch Sheila had ever met. "Are you all right?" Ron gave her a strange look. Sheila had noticed that Ron was not very adept at noticing things, rather like a handsome, blonde man she knew . . .

"A-_hem_! Yes, I'm fine."

Hermione didn't look convinced, but Ron turned back to the telescope with an exclamation of "Whoa! Those are pieces of _rock_?" It occurred to Sheila that the whole male population was blind to the obvious. When Ron reached backward and grabbed her hand in an effort to show her them, Hermione turned a brilliant shade of pink. A shade Sheila was positive that she had turned last week when Alden had bumped into her and dropped all his books.

He was blind to everything about her.

_Are you blind?  
Are you blind?  
Or is it just me  
You can't see?_

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	2. There's No Love

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Okaaay, so I originally wrote the first chapter not as a one-shot, but it took so long for me to think of what to write next that I started to think maybe it would be better that way, and then this morning I reread the beginning of this chapter and was bit by a continuation bunny, if there is such a thing. (And if there isn't, there is now. Ha.) So I finished it. I'm pretty proud of everything in this chapter. 

Disclaimer/Claimer: I do not own any characters you recognize, like Hermione, Ron, Dean Thomas and Luna Lovegood. I own Sheila Duffy, Alden Kent, and all the "ideas" in this one. I'd tell you exactly what I mean, but I don't want to ruin my brilliance - I mean the surprise.

With no further ado whatsoever!

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Part Two: There's No Love

Astronomy class seemed especially dull when compared to their last lesson. They were inside again, reading from their heavy textbooks. Sitting leaned against the wall, Hermione surveyed the whole classroom. Dean Thomas had fallen asleep, and Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were passing notes so obviously she wondered if Professor Duffy was blind.

Ron was staring outside, and Harry was leaning backward, with his eyes closed. But he wasn't sleeping. Harry hadn't slept for over two months, according to Ron. From out of nowhere, a paper airplane flew into Neville's lap. He didn't even glance up to see who it was. Neville was even more of a loner and outsider now, because of his relationship with Luna Lovegood. Except that it seemed to Hermione that he really didn't mind terribly.

"Now is the time for unity and trust," Dumbledore had said at the beginning of the term. "Without unity, we will not be able to stand against the evil of the world." Hermione had watched all the first years staring at Dumbledore, apprehension, but almost no fear on their still chubby and child-like faces. They had only been six when she had begun school. They probably knew everything that had happened the last few years. She thought of herself in the first year, and knew that she had been innocently excited. "I'm a witch now," she told herself whenever she was scared. "What could happen to me?" Hermione placed a hand to her forehead and rubbed it, trying to dispel the unhappy thoughts as if they were a headache.

The book sat shut on Hermione's desk. She had all ready read the chapter. Hermione was so bored; she opened it back up again and started reading the next assignment. To her surprise, when she turned to the page number, she found script that looked a lot like Ron and Harry's, obviously written before this year.

"I bet you don't even have to read this, I bet you're doing this for fun."

"Can you see me from where you are? No, I bet not, you're probably in OWL astronomy. How could one person be so smart?"

"Oh, don't start, Harry. You'll probably be there too. Hermione, it will be me you can't see."

_When they wrote this, they couldn't have expected how much this would mean to me_, thought Hermione. Smiling to herself, she played briefly with the idea of showing it to Harry and Ron. Harry was moody these days; he'd probably be too angry with her for "waking" him up to appreciate the humor. And Ron . . . she looked back at the paper. ". . . you can't see," he had written.

_Ronald is right again, _thought Hermione glumly. _I look for things, but I can never see them. Harry's smile, my parent's approval, Ron's love. . ._

_You say I can't see_

_I have to agree_

_When you look at me_

_There's no surprise._

_There's no love to_

_Be found in your eyes_

Alden Kent was dangerously close to becoming an obsession with Sheila. She was jotting down a quick "To Do List" and found herself writing, "Look for Alden between classes." Worried someone might see, she hastily scribbled it out, but could not forget it, and felt silly and was distracted for the next two classes. The last class of the week – Slytherin third years – was finally over, and Sheila waited for the immense burden to leave her shoulders and for her to finally feel free.

It didn't come.

With a start, she got out of her chair and began to walk to the door of the classroom. _It's the altitude_, she tried to convince herself. _It's only the altitude_. But she had stopped getting altitude headaches several weeks ago. She halted, her hand strangling the doorknob. It began to twist and she stared at it disbelievingly. She heard a soft curse, then, "Aloh –"

By the time the spell was finished, Sheila was sitting at her desk, her reading glasses on, staring intently at the door. She resisted the urge to clear her throat. "Yes?" she said calmly and slowly, taking her reading glasses off and hoping her hand did not tremble.

His brow was furrowed and his eyes held doubt. "Your door –"

"It is rather troublesome. I'm sorry, I really should have Filch look at it." Sheila blessed the fact that the Astronomy Tower was almost falling apart. "What do you need, Alden?"

"Oh. Um, staff meeting's going on as we speak. Dumbledore's office. Did you forget?" Alden Kent asked. _Well, that accounts for the feeling like I wasn't free yet. I'm not. I can't believe I forgot it . . . I'm sure I put it in my planner . . . _Sheila opened the drawer and pulled it out. Friday was empty. She bit her lip and turned the page. Next week Monday was empty. The following Tuesday was empty. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Monday . . . she flipped through the planner. All empty. She looked up to see Alden standing before her desk, peering at the planner at first, and then at her. He gave a bit of a grin before saying, "Yeah, me too."

"What?" said Sheila, clearing her throat without realizing it.

"Little joke the seventh years play on the new teachers. Here –" He opened his hand to her and she placed the planner in it, feeling a small shiver at the small brush of contact between them. He pulled out his wand and said, "_Finite Incantatem_." He opened the planner and handed it back to Sheila with the smile that comes when you do something well and good.

Sheila's neat scrawl filled the pages again, and she let out a small sigh of relief. 'Staff Meeting, Dumbledore's Office, 5 o' clock.' "You see, I am not such a silly scatterbrain after all," she said to herself, forgetting for a moment that Alden was there.

"I never thought you were," Alden answered, with a smile that seemed just for her. Suddenly, Sheila was freer than she had ever been before. She was out the window, over the moon, off the ground.

They walked together to Dumbledore's office, hand-in-hand in Sheila's mind. Things were looking up.

_You're not blind,_

_You're not blind,_

_It's so easy _

_For me to see.

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Well, so, um, yeah! (disclaimer - that belongs to my "blonde at heart" best friend (love you anyways)). I wasn't going to end Sheila's lament this soon, but as I said, it was the continuation bunny, I _swear_ . . . . Do you want me to finish up Hermione, or just leave her like this? And if you want me to write more, would you like more Sheila?

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